Searching for Black
by The Shadow Witch
Summary: As Sirius Black sits in Azkaban, losing a bit more of himself every day, a woman lives in her own prison, completely shut off from who she was. Their minds meet, and she begins to look for her past. She begins Searching for Black.
1. I will laugh

This is take five of my attempt to write this story (This time it's not my fault – the format I tried stuffed up)…although this IS the same first chapter as in my last three tries. This no longer has ANYTHING to do with my Azkaban Poem. The rating is for language in this chapter and disturbing thoughts in the next. I don't own anything to do with Harry Potter including Azkaban (*in sarcastic voice* What a pity!) and Sirius Black (Damn Damn Damn!!!!!) Sorry for any inconveniences caused by my indecisiveness. I'm sorry this is hard to read – It's fine in the font I've got it in at home – except Fanfiction.net's only using one font (and a font in 8.5 at that) and it's not spaced out enough that you can read it. Sorry. So…It is with great pleasure and without further ado that I present…

Searching for Black (Take V)

Chapter 1: I will laugh

I hate this fucking place. This fucking room where all I can do is sit and listen to silence…or pace and listen to the dreary beat of my tired feet. Every now and then I can listen to the other prisoners scream…but that's not much better than silence. I'm sick and tired of no one hearing…no one listening…how many other people in this place are innocent? Am I truly innocent? I got myself into this fucking place. I told them to use that fucking traitor of a rat…never liked rats anyway…instead of me because I thought _HE_ would _never_ think we'd trust _IT_ with such an…important…no, that's an understatement…with such a…I can't think of a fucking word expressive enough…never thought we'd trust _IT_ with a secret. It's my fucking fault and I'm fucking paying for it. Paying every day with a little bit more of my sanity…a little bit more of the fucking mind that got me into this fucking mess in the first place. If only someone would hear…look there goes a little more sanity…who stops to listen to anything more than their own twisted thoughts in this place? And who dares to stop and listen from the outside? Even she wouldn't listen to me in here…if she hadn't died too. It's so fucking quiet in here! Just that heavy, fear impregnated, leeching _silence_ is enough to send _any_ man insane…let alone one filled with such fucking guilt. Oh _technically _I'm innocent, because _technically_ I haven't killed anyone. Bull Shit. And to think I laughed! To think I fucking laughed. I never knew, did I? Oh no! I'm bloody Sirius Black the invincible! No stupid old Azkaban is going to get me down! Hah! One day I'll get _IT_! One day I'll pay _IT _back for this. One day…I'll make _IT_ feel what it's like to loose a little bit of you mind, a little bit of your sanity, a little bit more of your humanity every day. If _IT _even had any to begin with. I can just see myself…twisting _ITS_ body just as _HE _has twisted _its_ mind. Though I must ask myself whether _ITS _mind wasn't twisted before _HE_ gained power over _IT_. Or was _IT HIS_ servant all along? Was _ITS_ apparent friendship with us a carefully formulated plan? Fuck fuck fuck! One day I'll get out of here! One day I'll recover what I've lost in here! One day I'll show them both what they've done. Some day soon…I will laugh…

AUTHOR NOTE TIME!!!!!!!!

Thanx to those who reviewed my first two attempts at this – I've forgotten who you all are. To Rocky who reviewed my last one – Thanx for the constructive critique. I've asked myself the same questions but the short chapters are because of using multiple points of view. This chapter also Didn't seem quite the same without the swearing – I tried to cut some out but it didn't work. Paragraphs didn't work either – mainly because it was a rant that I wrote when I was in a bad mood and then edtited later – rants tend to come out with lots of swearing and most definitely NOT in paragraphs. Thanx all the same.

Love and tiny sugarplum faerie-like Kisses

Clare – The Shadow Witch


	2. Amara

Here is chapter two. Same disclaimer as before applies. Amara is MINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If you've read chapter one before in a different addition it's changed a little so maybe go back and read it again before reading this one. Thanx.

Searching for Black

Chapter 2: Amara

Once I would have given anything not to 'hear' emotions. Once I would have said that if I never 'heard' another emotion again it would have been decades too soon. Once I hated my 'curse'. Now I long for the return of my gift. Ever since that dream…no…no one could ever have called it a dream…ever since that nightmare it is as if I have become 'deaf'. People walk past me on the street and I hear nothing. Even when I come into tactile contact with someone I hear nothing. It is as if my mind has closed off completely. Why can't I 'hear' anyone anymore? Why do I want to 'hear' people? Ever since that night I heard him screaming. Ever since that night…

_She gently knocked at the huge, metal door. Just touching it made her skin crawl. The waves crashing against the black cliff dropping away behind her weren't much better, but at least they didn't reek of dark magic and horrific mix of emotions she couldn't quite fathom. There was no answer. She pushed at the door and it swung open. If she had thought the door was bad…the corridor she had entered was much worse. Anguish, fear, horror, hate, desolation, insanity and death washed over her like a foul, stinking torrent of water. Pounding at her soul, nibbling at her mind, threatening to drown her in its awesome power. The door behind her swung shut with an ominous bang. She ran blindly down the corridor. At every door she passed a new horror attacked her. Wild, staring eyes from between bars. Scarred hands clawing at an unbreakable window. Insane, triumphant laughter, bubbling forth like pus from a festering wound, from behind a door with no window. Dry, racking sobs of utter despair. Screams of 'I didn't do it! It wasn't me! Tell them it wasn't me' ripping from too many tortured throats behind too many doors. A low, dull pounding sound as someone flings them self again and again against a door in a final, frantic attempt at freedom. A silence, possibly more ominous than the noises. And from one door, the final door, screams of such utter loneliness, despair, fury, shattered hopes, longing, pain and madness flew at her and sliced deeply into her heart. Tears pouring down her cheeks, she pounded at this final door. Pleading with someone she didn't know to let her in. Pleading, crying, adding her screams to those of the man inside. Adding her screams to the screams of Sirius Black…_

I woke up slowly, still screaming, yet fighting my inevitable return to the land of the living. When I stopped screaming, tears still pouring down my face, I felt my throat constrict with pain and realised I had been screaming for a very long time. I went to rest my head in my hands, hoping for some instantaneous respite from the pounding headache I had managed to acquire, when I noticed a multitude of thin, bleeding cuts all over my hands. Cuts the like of which come from pounding at rough metal doors for a very long time. As I examined my hands, trying not to think of what their condition implied, I felt sleep beginning to overcome me again and I surrendered to its power…

She stood in front of the final door once more, except now it was open and she was staring into a cold, dark, rank, empty and now silent cell. The cell itself, though not entirely empty, might as well have been from the expression, or lack thereof, in the lone occupants tortured eyes. Indeed, although he was staring straight at her, she had the most chilling feeling that he had no idea she was there. A voice she hardly recognised as her own spoke softly. 'Am I too late, then' it asked. The man's head lifted sharply, his eyes flared back to life and he stared wildly around the room. 'Amara?' he questioned, his voice rough with emotions and hoarse from screaming. 'Amara? Where are you?'. 'I'm here Sirius, where I've always been. Why can't you see me?'. She was pleading with him again. For a moment, his eyes locked on hers. Recognition flashed in them, then was washed away in a pulsating tide of longing. What she saw frightened her. 'Why Sirius? Why?' she pleaded, silently this time, as she dragged her eyes away from him. As her eyes left his, he screamed once more. A scream more vivid than ever. An animalistic scream of pain and despair and longing. 'AMARA'…

AUTHOR NOTE TIME!!!!!!

Actually…I don't have one except to say 'I KNOW SOMETHING YOU DON'T KNOW NYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA'

Later

Clare – The Shadow Witch


	3. Sirius Screamed

Hi! It's me! (_No Shit_) Here I am with another exciting instalment of…

Searching for Black

Chapter 3: Sirius Screamed

The man paced. He didn't look much like a man anymore. His skin was dead white and waxy and his eyes were sunken. His once glossy black hair was filthy, matted and hanging to his elbows. He was so thin he was closer to a skeleton than anything else and his eyes burned with something dreadful and totally unfathomable. Back and forth, back and forth as if trying to wear away the floor of the cell. He spoke, his voice sounding as though he had long ago lost the habit of using it. He sounded like he was arguing with someone.

"It wasn't a dream…It wasn't a dream because I wasn't asleep…But she died…they all died…But it wasn't a dream." It was a strange argument, the man seemed to be taking both sides and arguing against himself.

"I've got to stop thinking about her. She's dead. She's dead. God Damnit man, you know she's dead so stop willing yourself to believe she isn't." The man was yelling at himself now. He stopped, took a deep breath and started muttering.

"Dead…all dead…little baby Harry not dead…oh no…he's not dead…but they're all dead…all dead…dead…dead…dead…all dead…very dead…little babies not dead…nether of them dead…everyone else dead…all dead…dead…" an insane glint light up his eyes and he began to laugh. His laugh was cut short, however, as he felt the now familiar,  cold, dread presence of a Dementor glide down the corridor towards his cell. There wasn't much more they could take from Sirius, his happy memories were all locked away, in a prison as formidable as that in which he now was. A prison, guarded by the memories of the night everyone he loved became lost. A prison, lit only by his knowledge that it wasn't him. A prison, escapable only after he had escaped this one. That was usual enough, however, he could also hear footsteps. Plainly human footsteps. Stopping for a moment. Then moving on again. With an almost torturous slowness whoever was in the corridor came closer. Then, almost without warning, his door swung open. Sirius Black stared into the eyes of Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for magic.

"Why the hell is he here?" muttered Sirius so quietly that only he could hear it. Fudge looked a little uncomfortable, to say the least, at being confronted by the most infamous criminal ever to be held in the Azkaban fortress. Sirius Black's insane eyes bore into Fudge's before swooping down to gaze at the rolled up newspaper clenched if his fist. His gaze was hungry now, hungry for knowledge, hungry for something to break the monotony of his semi-mad existence.

"Can I have that paper?" he asked, his voice as hungry as his eyes. Fudge shifted nervously.

"Um…yes…well…I suppose it can't…um…hurt." He shoved the paper at Sirius left quickly. Sirius never heard him go. Running his hand across the back page, Sirius turned the paper over, and began to read an article titled _MINISTRY OF MAGIC EMPLOYEE SCOOPS GRAND PRIZE_. Truthfully, Sirius hardly took in a word; he was too intoxicated with being able to read once more. He laughed again, this time truly a laugh of joy. However, as he glanced at the picture of the large family, he plummeted back into the fear-infested pit he had just dragged himself out of. Peter Pettigrew was at Hogwarts. Peter Pettigrew was too close to Harry. Far too close. How long before another part of his former life was swallowed up by that monster, that foul creature, that heartless demon who was Lord Voldemort. For the first time since the night Amara re-appeared…Sirius Screamed…

AUTHOR NOTES!!!!!!!!!

Thanx to those who have reviewed so far! (I'm amazed, none of them are people who I have threatened with stoning by large, fluorescent pink, fluffy slippers if they didn't read and review. AKA my friends) 

To Voltora: Here's the next chapter, if I haven't e-mailed you about it by now, please feel free to send me as many howlers as you please. 

To Vanessa: Sorry about it being hard to read – that's why I've had to try five times – trust me, be glad you read this version and not one of the others – they were worse. Sorry, but in what way is this different to what you expected?

To FleurWeasly: I most certainly WILL keep going, especially as I have already written chapters 12, 13,14 and fifteen.

Love to you all

Clare – The Shadow Witch


	4. He was Gone

Hi! I'm currently up-loading two chapters at a time. So here's chapter four of…

Searching for Black

Chapter 4: He was gone

The steady pounding of her feet against the pavement was an excellent counterpoint for the pounding questions (and headache) in her mind. _Who is he?_ Trees, flowers, houses, shops, people, all of which she had once examined with interest during her daily run, passed by her in a mêlée of silent shadows. _Who is Black?_ For weeks the question had pounded her head with an ever-increasing urgency. _Who is Sirius?_ The only thing she could see was a face. A face filled with shadows and surrounded with shadows. Sometimes, a face of laughter wreathed in light. _Two men? Black and Sirius? One man? Black Sirius? Sirius Black? _She laughed, a hollow, bitter sound. _Sounds like a bad joke. Are you Serious, Black? Sirius Black…Funny…or not…_ On this day she stops, realising _I never called him Black. How do I know that's his name? Two men then…not one…Who are they? Why both plague my every conscious thought? _On this day, a large black dog bounds up to her, tongue lolling out in an expression of welcome. He leaps up and places his front paws on her stomach, head straining to reach hers as his owner, still a shadow among many, races towards him. She looks up at the man with unseeing eyes, the same eyes Sirius had turned on her. Then she looks down at the dog and recognition races across her brain, through every fibre of her being. She sinks to the ground, her mind reeling, and cradles the now still dog in her arms. Glistening tears of hope, desire and frustration form in the corners of her dark eyes. She  gazed up at the dogs owner and spoke.

"Black." The man looked startled.

"Um…yes," he replied, "he is. His name's James."

_James,_ another name that sliced at her mind, _James Black then? Sirius someone and James Black?_ She had forgotten the dog. The man coughed, embarrassed.

"Um…miss…do you want a hand or something. You can borrow my phone if you want, call someone or something? My name's Peter, Peter…"

She snarled at the man and clutched the dog tighter to her, causing it to yelp.

"Look miss," the man was now decidedly worried, "Are you sure you're alright? Is there anything you want to talk about? I can keep a secret."

She clutched the dog tighter still. It began to struggle and she held it even tighter. Finding no escape the dog growled and bit her. She merely gazed down at the dog for a few moments before the pain hit her. It shot up her arm, and through her body causing her to scream and let go of the dog. The dog shot off into the distance. She continued to scream.

"SIRUIS! COME BACK! SIRIUS!" But he wasn't Sirius…and he was gone…

AUTHOR NOTE!!!!!

Hi! I KNOW SOMETHING NONE OF YOU KNOW!!!!!!

Love – Clare, The Shadow Witch


	5. He's at Hogwarts

Hello! Here is the long awaited next chapter to Searching for Black. I'm really sorry it took so long (you'd never believe!) and that it's so short. It started out OK, but bits of it have gotten a bit weirdmainly 'cos I started with a lot of PoA text, then proceeded to have all my Harry Potter books fly out the window! (i.e. They've escaped and I have NO knowledge of where they are. Anyone with any knowledge as to their whereabouts PLEASE notify me immediately) ActuallyI still have PoA, but it's in Frenchand I couldn't lift the pure dialogue outI'll shut up and let you get on to the story

Oops! No, I lied! Disclaimer: Much of the actual content of this chapter is the work of the Great One Herself, The JK Rowling. I have borrowed it but for a while, and if we shadows have offended, think but this and all is mended, that you have but slumbered hereand I've forgotten the rest of the quoteOh dearthat was borrowed from The Great Renaissance One Himself, William Shakespeare. Sirius and all others that you recognise are of The Great One Herself, and Amara is mine

Chapter 5: He's at Hogwarts

"He's at Hogwarts" Sirius Black was talking in his sleep. Nightmares plagued his every moment. Peter Pettigrew was at Hogwarts, perfectly positioned to act, if one hint reached his ears that the Dark Side was gathering strength againready to strike the moment he could be sure of alliesto deliver the last Potter to them. If he gave them Harry, who'd dare say he'd betrayed Lord Voldemort? He'd be welcomed back with honours.

It had become an obsession. A constant thought, throbbing with all the dreadful connotations it held, which wiped all else from his tortured brain. It wasn't a happy thought, so the Dementors couldn't take it from him, even if he wanted them to, but it kept him sane, however doubtful that result might be.

Something else lingered in his mind. And in his few moments when his mind was not filled with the driving need to pull Peter Pettigrew apart bit by snivelling bit, and when the Dementors were not near enough to take it from him, he basked in half forgotten memories of a beautiful woman with a mass of chocolate brown curls. He wasn't entirely sure how real she was, Azkaban did funny things to a man's mind after all, but she was a brief ray of sunshine in a dark, monotonous, hate-filled existence

"He's at Hogwarts" As Ministry of Magic workers listened in horror to Sirius' ramblings, they came to only one conclusion, the wrong conclusion. Sirius Black was going to finish the job he started, and kill the last Potter. But as his nightmares passed into deeper, but no less painful, sleep, it was a different job he wanted to finish. The job that got him there in to Azkaban in the first place.

While the Ministry workers who had heard Sirius were worried, it never occurred to them to put human guards as well as Dementors on Sirius' cellAnd one day his nightmares got so bad, that he slipped into the Animagus form they never knew he had, and disappeared from Azkaban


	6. Searching for Black

Hello my loyal fans…or not…here is another chapter from me! The Shadow Witch! I hope you enjoy it…I (and the whole of Walford Year 10) enjoyed writing it…I'm dedicating it to Walford Year 10…'cos they put up with my wild moods of running around screaming "What's the word that means…" and my very loud classical music…I'm sure it was highly educational for them…Anyway…I don't own Sirius, Remus, James, Lily or Peter…well…I own the bits of them that are my creation but apart from that…I own Amara, Orion is herself, as is Rusulka. So pull up a chair, grab a mug of Hot Chocolate, and set about reading

Chapter 6: Searching for Black

The seven young people stared sadly at her across the lake. It was cold, and snow swirled around them, but somehow she could still see them clearly. There were four boys and three girls. She glanced over them; curious as to why they had invaded her previously peaceful sleep. Then she returned and studied them carefully in turn. The first person, on the left, was a short, somewhat chubby boy who seemed like he spent half his time looking sad, like he did now, and the other half frightened out of his wits. He was wringing his hands and couldn't quite meet her eyes. The next person across, another boy, wasn't much taller, but he exuded confidence. He stood like he expected people to follow him, and in a manner which suggested that they usually did. Behind the perplexed melancholy in his blue eyes, however, was a sparkle of merriment, which seemed to fuel him through everything, and his short black hair seemed possessed of a mind of its own. The next person, a girl, was seemingly on the verge of tears. The second boy had his arm round her shoulders in a manner which was both possessive and protective. Not that she looked like she needed it. She had the same air of unquestioned authority and confidence, despite her tears. She had flaming red hair and glowing green eyes and alabaster skin. The next girl, whose hand the redhead held tightly, had a very different aura. She seemed almost submissive, but she had a core of steel and a comfortable, fuzzy feeling of someone who knows exactly what they want. But that feel, and her grey eyes were shadowed with extreme sadness. The next person, who had a hand resting protectively at the small of the second girl's back, gently stroking her lustrous black hair, seemed tired as well as sad. The just-past-full moon was reflected from the water into those tired eyes, though she had no idea as to why this seemed significant to some deeply buried part of her. He was around the same hight as the second boy, but he seemed gentler and slightly less confidant. Mixed with the confusion and sadness in his eyes was pity, and he seemed to want to comfort the other boy next to him as well, but he thought better of it. The last boy was gripping the third boy's shoulder so tightly that his knuckles were white. In his near-black eyes was a mixture of desperate hope, utter desolation and, strangely, fury. But behind that glittered a soul filled with keen intelligence, exuberance and blatant sensuality. The sensuality exuded from each pore, was highly evident in his long, glossy black hair, in the strangely androgynous curve of his lips in the gentle flow of his robes about his lithe body. She was about to drag her eyes away from him, in the interest of examining the last person, but one final look sent shocked recognition searing through her. The man in her previous dream, the man who screamed her name from the empty, clawing depths of a repulsive, hate encrusted prison, was the same as this sensual and so vitally **alive** boy who stood before her now. The exuberance had been beaten into submission, and his sensuality had been buried under layers of both physical and emotional filth, but there was no doubt that the starved, lonely, half-insane, desperate, tortured and **empty**man whose image arose in her mind was the same as, albeit a mere shadow of, this vibrant boy. Something in her soul howled a dirge for this boy, while something, hidden, locked away in the deepest recesses of her mind screamed for release. As the maelstrom of emotions picked at her, tearing at the very core of her being, she tore her eyes away from him, to stare in incredulity and a growing sense of foreboding at the girl he held so tightly and possessively against himself. A girl who had her head on his shoulder, her face masked by a mass of vivacious, russet curls. Time slowed, and the girl lifted her head, one delicately sculpted hand sweeping the hair backwards, revealing an intelligent, beautiful face. A face with large, glittering dark eyes, gently curved lips, twisted into an almost apologetic smile, despite her tears and subtly pink cheeks. A face that Amara had seen, albeit somewhat older, in the mirror every day for the past thirteen years. As Amara stared in utter shock, a voice spoke from next to her.

"Hello Amara" it was an amused voice, yet an ageless, wise one. Amara turned, glad of an excuse to tear her eyes away from the questions those young people evoked. The woman who stood next to her was tiny. Well, not unnaturally tiny, but more extremely short. She had long, black hair, plaited and wound intricately behind her head. Her eyes were a storm-tossed blue, gentle and smiling, yet hiding secrets and knowledge too vast to be anything but terrible. Her skin was a translucent white, and her floating blue dress added to her ethereal quality. The only thing about her that seemed entirely real was her mouth, which had a humorous curve to it, which was just too **earthy**to be anything but real. Her smile grew broader, and she continued

"I can't stay long, and of course, any message or help I give you has to be cryptic, but I hope this" she gesticulated to indicate the young people of the other side of the lake "is of some help in finding out who you were, who you are and who you can be." She faded slightly, and the snow swirled faster, "I can't stay much longer, but we Blacks will help in any way we can. My brother can help you more than I can; he was with you for much longer. Amara, you have to…" The snow swirled up and around, and the small woman disappeared. Amara sent one more, half-hoping, half-fearing look across the lake and saw the young people standing there for a moment longer before a fell wind swept across the scene, whipping the snow into a frenzied dance of fury, longing and desolation and veiled them from sight. As the snow swirled around her and the world twisted, dragging her back up into consciousness, she heard a cry, ripped from a young throat, and a matching cry from his older self echoing, swirling, dancing in her mind as the snow danced around her body. The wind howled, adding it's cries to the two men, and she was flung upwards and back into…

her bed where she sat, gasping with the sudden return to the land of the living. She got out of bed slowly, and got dressed, willing her suddenly reluctant body to go through the mundane, necessary motions of a normal morning. In a daze, she left the house, and began the route of her normal morning run. She had reached the first corner, when the full realisation of her dream? Vision? Hit her. Those people were from her past; from a past she couldn't remember. And what had the small, ethereal woman said? "My brother can help you more than I can" her brother…Black…it was all part of a complex puzzle she was missing the pieces, and the picture, for. But there was one thing she did know. And that was where she could get answers. She had to go looking for them. She had to go Searching for Black… 


End file.
